The Garden
by My Misguided Fairytale
Summary: Hearing about adventures is never as good as having them yourself, but tempting fate has its limits. / Medieval AU, Staunchshipping Tristan x Mana x Kisara


The Garden

Genres: Adventure, Romance

Summary: Hearing about adventures is never as good as having them yourself, but tempting fate has its limits. / Medieval AU, Staunchshipping Tristan x Mana x Kisara

A/N: Written for the YGO Fanfiction Contest, Season 8.5, Tier Five, with the chosen pairing of Staunchshipping (Tristan x Mana x Kisara). This is a medieval AU, and I'm using the English names because I think they fit better, considering that. The story is told in a non-linear fashion. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Garden<strong>_

"_I've always tempted fate," Tristan says, leaning to adjust the buckles fastening his cloak against one shoulder. "It's why my campaigns are so successful."_

_The Lord frowns, shuffling closer so he can whisper his response to the young knight, not wanting any of the others to overhear it. "When the dragon uncoils from its slumber—exposing sinewy muscles, sharp claws, and those flat, irreconcilable eyes, there's said to be no sight more dangerous on this Earth. And still you want to go after it?"_

_Tristan smiles thinly and nods, glancing up at the wide mountain before them. At the mountain's base, it was just possible to see the top obscured through the mist, even though it was already midmorning. "Does the sun ever shine here?"_

"_Not hardly," the man tells him. "For there is nothing for it to shine on."_

_._

_._

"Tristan!" Mana rushes up to the closest nobleman, inclining her head. "Have you seen Tristan?" She barely waits for his response, rushing off and leaning over the balustrade overlooking the main courtyard, calling out his name again.

"He said he'd be back today," she says aloud, leaning against the railing, speaking more to the begonias twined into the metal detailing than any person near her. "He said I'd be the first person he'd see when he got back."

"A knight would never lie to his lady."

Surprised yet undeniably ecstatic, she whirls around, catching sight of Tristan. She mock-frowns at him, folding her arms across her chest and doing her best to look disapproving through her ceaseless grin.

"Obviously not," she tells him, "as you've clearly had time to change in-between coming home and seeing me! You know how much I like to hug you when you're wearing your armor."

"Mana, you like no such thing—"

"_Well_," she says, "if you get to lie to me then I see nothing wrong with doing the same now and then."

"_Mana_." He holds out a hand, and she slips her own into it graciously. "I merely wanted to make myself presentable so you wouldn't have to wait for me before we had lunch."

"How fortunate for you that I haven't had lunch yet." She contemplates sticking out her tongue and decides against it; it was the sort of thing she would do to him as children, but no longer. "_I _was waiting for _you _to get back. And I'm always presentable."

"A knight is always thoughtful for his lady's concerns," Tristan says, lifting her hand to let his lips brush lightly against her knuckles. "Lead the way."

"Will you tell me all about your recent campaign?" she asks as they walk. "I wish I could go, it sounds so exciting!"

"Of course, I'll tell you all about it."

She notices that he makes no comment about the second half of her statement, indulging her less-than-ladylike whims only to the point of respectability, but never actually entertaining a thought that she could be serious about them. Mana hides her frown behind a smile, laughing at his words, and feeling a bit like a fool for wanting something more, something that she could never have.

Hearing about adventures is never as good as having them yourself, she believes.

.

.

_A thousand miles away, inside a garden bordered by neat hedges as tall as her head and locked behind an ornate, golden gate, a woman pulls a pear from a tree and bites into it._

.

.

"—and I defeated the evil knight in a duel, and we victoriously saved the town of Nantes! We were richly rewarded for our successes, too—horses and beautiful goblets and jewels! Of course none of those are worthy presents for one such as you, so I lay my very triumphs at your feet! When I win in battles or slay monstrous beasts I do it all in your name, to prove my love to you."

"You don't _need _to do anything." As Mana leans across the table, she wishes that Tristan had been wearing his armor, or at least his sword—it was easier to be angry with him when it was a member of the King's army she was looking at instead of her friend. Now, Tristan only looked adorably confused, without the slightest bit of that harsh justice he was known for on the battlefield. "In fact, I'd rather you stayed here with me! You have no idea how boring it can be."

She glances up at him. "Is it _ever _boring, going on adventures?"

"Never a dull moment," he says. "I could tell you stories for the next hundred years and still not get to half of what I've seen out there."

"…Summarize it for me?" She grins and laughs, waiting for him to take a quick drink before continuing.

"Anything your mind can imagine, it's out there. The legends, the far-off lands…I've met people in my travels from each corner of the globe. And I've told everyone I've met to remember the name of Tristan!"

Glancing down again, she moves her hands from the tabletop to her lap, knitting the fingers together. "But do you enjoy that life more than being here?"

The unspoken _with me _hangs in the air above their heads, and Tristan sighs. "Of course not. It's the life of a knight! I'm almost there—worthy enough to ask your father for your hand. Rich enough from my campaigns to finance our life together. You deserve nothing short of the very best, Mana."

"What I _deserve _means nothing to me," she says, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I've always wanted you. You, and no one else. I just…" She pauses, frowning, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At times I wish I had your life."

"Mana! You shouldn't say things like that! At least, the last thing. Or the first. But you can say the second as many times as you want."

"No guarantees," she says, pouting.

"I can see I've made you sad," Tristan says. "But I know what will cheer you up. Would you like to hear about our hunt of the Twrch Trwyth?"

"Yes," she replies. Really, she would. And as he tells her his stories, she imagines herself standing there, sword in hand, fighting off the giant boar or the evil sorcerer or the enemy knight. She imagines herself standing in a foreign land, overlooking the sea. Glancing to her left, Tristan is still standing there, giving her that adoring smile she loves so much. She imagines herself victorious, and free.

.

.

_When Mana oversees a page handing out missives to a few of the high-ranking soldiers standing around the courtyard, she knows from their reactions it's a call for the sort of battle Tristan would advocate. Even when his happiness means the loss of her own, she can't bring herself to convince him otherwise when he comes to her, taking both hands in his, and tells her the good news._

"_We've received news from a far-off city, near the mountains," he tells her. "A dragon has been terrorizing their people. All of the great knights are heading there now, to try and kill it. I wish to join their number." At her expression, he drops her hands in favor of cradling her face, smoothing a thumb across her cheek. _

"_And when I do defeat it, and prove myself as the strongest knight in the entire kingdom, I will marry you. That's a promise."_

"_I-I…" She shrinks back, swallowing her protests and replacing them with a smile. "Go, then. Really. You have my blessing. How many knights are going, exactly?"_

"_Just a few—those who have returned early, and our squires. We're leaving at daybreak tomorrow."_

"_Tomorrow," she echoes. _

"_Are you sure you don't mind?" Tristan asks. "If you tell me not to go, I won't."_

_Mana shakes her head emphatically, smoothing her hair back into place with deft fingers. "I'm telling you to go."_

"_I'll come back for you. That's another promise." He offers her a smile before leaving, but Mana simply leans against the stone wall behind her and stifles a grin against one closed fist._

"_You won't have to," she whispers, "for I won't be leaving you."_

.

.

He leaves that morning at daybreak, staring into the slowly rising sun as Tristan and his squire follow a small group of other soldiers into the countryside. A few riders follow at a distance; there is no true path towards the land they seek, so many cross the open fields and ride into the forests at any point they choose. Following the sun and the stars is good enough.

A straggling warrior on a white horse follows a good few miles behind him, close enough to see on the hilltops or valleys. It is obvious that knight is using him to find his path—admirable, and if he had any actual ability at stealth it would be a decent strategy. Follow the strongest knight to the source, and then if he cannot complete his quest the other will assume it himself. Let the other knights weaken the menace. At times like these Tristan wishes he had a company of knights to fight alongside, but the glory each sought was solitary. He does not wish to go back to fighting in wars, but he will fight without question to uphold the values vested in him as a knight. Anyone seeking his aid will not be denied it.

He has never before fought a dragon. All other conceivable animals, yes, but never a dragon. He glances down at the sword at his waist and thinks that he would relish the opportunity.

.

.

He is preparing to make camp when he spots the same soldier and his white horse making his way closer. They stop on the very edge of the camp, close enough for Tristan to get a better look at the knight. They dismount, fiddling with the horse's tack, and the horse looks just familiar enough that Tristan knows the knight must have come from the castle.

He climbs to his feet from his seat by the fire and walks over, surprised to see that the person is wearing full armor. He wonders why they would be actually wearing it instead of transporting it—it's heavy, bulky, and in the heat it must have been unbearable. He rethinks his earlier assumptions, deciding they must just be a young squire or someone with little practical experience who decided to join the quest anyway.

"Hey!" he calls, jogging closer when the horse tosses his mane, blocking Tristan's view of the soldier.

"Shh, calm down!"

Tristan hadn't recognized the soldier by sight, but there was no mistaking the voice. Even pitched low, it was still unmistakable. "_Mana?_"

The soldier's body cringes, leaning against the horse for support. "Who? Who is that?"

"Give it up," Tristan says, reaching out to grasp the helmet and pull it off. Underneath, Mana's face peers out at him, her hair a mess from the metal and her face streaked with dirt and sweat.

"I'm not even going to ask you what you're doing here," he continues, "but that doesn't mean you aren't going to tell me. You had better start talking."

"Alright," she says, dipping her chin, making to hide behind the hair falling into her eyes. "Can we at least talk by the fire?"

A minute later they are comfortably situated by the fire, with Tristan thankful that his squire had already retired for the evening. He can hardly believe that she is here, but there she is, sitting with her fingers wrapped around a chunk of bread, staring straight at him. He didn't think he'd ever felt as uncomfortable in his life.

"Don't you see?" Mana says. "I wanted to have an adventure of my own, yes, but I wanted to share one with you! You would never have agreed to this, and I wouldn't have expected you to, but I want to go out and experience the world for myself! I want to see the things you've seen!"

"I would have given you anything you had asked for." Tristan resists the urge to lean closer to her, instead settling himself back against the grass. "I should take you back to the castle. I know that. I should put an end to this." He sighs and buries one hand in his hair, scratching lightly at the surface. "I don't know why I haven't yet."

"Is what I want really so wrong?" Mana glances up at him, turning the piece of bread in her hands before taking a small, nervous bite. "Joan of Arc was a warrior."

"Do you know how to fight? You are a liability, Mana! I cannot protect you and complete my quest!"

"I can protect myself," she insists. "And I believe nothing can stop you from what you want, just as the same is true with me. That's why I believe this is possible. That's why I believe you won't take me back."

"The damage has already been done. I can allow you to accompany me, but I can't protect you when we return. You will likely be punished for this." His expression turns thoughtful. "Unless, of course, we defeat the dragon."

"I've always brought you good luck," she says, the corners of her mouth twisting up in a smile.

"And I've always tempted fate." He nods, slowly, before standing and moving to their stack of supplies, producing a blanket. "You can have my tent. I'll sleep outside."

"Thank you. That's very generous." Her relief is obvious, and she finishes the bread before accepting the blanket.

"I would be less generous if the weather were not so nice," he says with a wry grin. "I would force such a thing on my squire." He turns to Mana again. "You do not need to worry about his secrecy. He is loyal to me, and will treat you as a knight demands a lady be treated."

"But I'm not a lady anymore." Mana grins widely, gesturing to the armor atop her shoulders. "I'm a warrior!"

"Still, Mana," Tristan says, "you will always be a lady to me."

He holds open one edge of the tent, and she ducks inside, whispering a faint goodnight. He follows it with one of his own. "Sweet dreams, Mana."

.

.

_Mana runs up to her tutor, anxiously tugging on the woman's skirts. "Tristan said he doesn't want to play with me anymore! He was awful rude." _

_The woman laughs. "You can't order him around, Mana. You're both getting older, and you're going to have different interests. Tristan won't be a page for too much longer, and he's preparing himself for his future! If only you would show such dedication in _your_ studies!"_

"_But I can!" she cries. "Knights are supposed to do whatever a lady asks of them. Always!"_

"_If you wish to be a lady you must act like one," her tutor says. "Ladies do not play in the muddy fields with the dogs, do they?" She bends down, adjusting Mana's dress and smoothing her hair. "I doubt that one disagreement will be the end of your friendship. Go and see him—he is dueling some of the older boys today for practice and will surely need your support."_

_Mana nods and runs again, remembering on the stairs that ladies shouldn't run, and instead lightly walks the remainder of the steps. She sees the crowds surrounding the practice field for the youth of the castle, and runs again. She can see Tristan standing on the field's edge, and makes her way towards him, apologizing as she ducks through the crowd, stepping on a few toes. _

"_Tristan!" She calls his name again when he doesn't turn or look at her. "What's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"_

_He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his back still turned away from her. "No, Mana. Do not worry. I just…I can't spend that much time with you anymore. I need to get better. If I can prove I'm the best at this, then a knight will take me as his squire. I'll be able to go off and fight and have grand adventures…I'll be able to leave this castle. Maybe even see my home again."_

"_Tristan!" This time her sigh is exasperated, and she stomps a foot for emphasis. "This _is _your home. And what if we don't want you to leave?"_

"_Then I will simply be the best anyway," he says, "and then leave the rest to fate."_

_In the field one of the oldest boys has just finished his mock-battle, sending his opponent falling into the dirt. Tristan gladly takes his place and his sword, a light, crude wooden one used for such practices. He feels the grain of the wood, the places where it has been sanded unevenly. He stares into the mocking eyes of the older boy, knowing that in regards to sheer strength he is already outmatched. It will take more than that to win._

_With the first strike he is forced to take a step backward, and he braces himself for the second. It comes quickly, and he pivots on his left foot, crossing around to meet the next strike, mindful of his footwork. He would prefer a clean, classic match, but when the boy lashes out with an elbow, attempting to catch Tristan in the face, he knows that won't be what he's getting. He initiates the next move, clashing their swords together, and when the boy attempts to punch him Tristan jabs the hilt of the sword into his arm._

_It was his dominant arm, too, he notices. His strokes will be weaker in the future for it, but in the trade-off he has angered his opponent. What little grace was there has now disappeared entirely from his face, and the sword-strokes become more violent, and as Tristan steps backward he loses his footing on a loose clump of dirt._

_On the side of the field, a few steps from the milling crowds, Mana watches. She knows how stubborn Tristan can be, and knows that he's seconds away from losing the match unless either of them do something about it. Quickly, she picks up a small rock by her feet, judging its weight in the palm of her hand, before throwing it at the boy advancing towards Tristan, wooden sword raised. She waits to see it strike the side of his head before ducking away, hiding behind a few of the others, glad that no one seems to have noticed besides the boy, who turns away from Tristan, giving him his opportunity._

_From his position on the ground, he scrambles close enough to deliver a swift kick to the side of the boy's legs, sending him falling as Tristan grabs for his own sword and climbs to his feet. It's easy work to kick the sword from the boy's hands, and a second later Tristan's sword is pointed at his neck._

_Mana cannot help herself and claps her hands together, trying to look innocent as Tristan unwittingly kicks the offending stone away. She congratulates him with a smile, her excited chatter masking the sound of their footsteps dragging over gravel as he accompanies her back to the castle._

"_See, Tristan?" she says. "I bring you luck! As long as I'm around, you'll win all your battles!"_

"_That's a nice thought," he replies. "I suppose as long as I'm winning them, I'll do it for you, and then I won't have an excuse to lose."_

_Her face grows surprisingly hot, and she clasps her fingers together behind her back for something to do with them. "That's too bad. If you never lose, I won't have a thing to complain about!"_

"_You can help me practice?" he offers, and Mana's eyes light up and she skips ahead, glancing back at him expectantly._

"_Come on, then!" she calls. "We haven't got all day!"_

_._

_._

The Castle Dore sits at the top of a hill, imposing at a distance but even more so up close. As they ride into the village, Mana swivels her head around to look at everything in sight. She's dressed normally, the armor she liberated from her castle in the squire's care along with Tristan's own. There are very few people milling the grounds of Castle Dore; most, they assume, are either working in fields or working outside, and the few soldiers they can see are reluctant to leave their posts. After having announced their arrival to the guard at the gate, they were allowed inside with promises to be met by the castle's Lord.

"Do you suppose we are the first?" Mana asks, looking around. No one seems to be paying them any attention, but the few close enough look up in mild interest as a well-dressed man approaches them from the tall doors of the main building.

"No," Tristan whispers. "From our arrival, I would guess that we are not the first, not even close, and that everyone before us has failed."

Mana swallows thickly, attempting to keep her horse steady as the Lord and his entourage approach.

"Welcome, friends," he says. "Shall we see to your horses and belongings? Please, follow me, and we can talk about the creature that has been plaguing our land."

Inside the main hall and seated at a long table, the two are given food and drink while the squire attends to the horses. At the head of the table the Lord paces, his hands clasped before him, his cloak swishing with every turn.

"Tell us," Tristan says. "Tell us about this dragon."

"Well, it is no secret that dragons have always lived in these mountains," he begins, "and it is no secret that we have lived in relative harmony with them for many years. Unfortunately, some thieves found the location of the dragon's keep and went after it. I'm sure you've both heard the stories—unbelievable treasures, they say, are held in a dragon's keep. Dragons are the world's foremost authorities on beauty, after all! They only keep that which is said to be the most valuable, beautiful treasures, and they guard their hoard with a vengeance untouched by any other."

"What kind of treasure?" Mana asks. "Gold? Jewels? Books?"

"Any and all," he answers. "That's the lure of it, you see. When the keep was disturbed, the dragon turned malicious, and began attacking our villages. That's why we need it destroyed, knight. We offer you first pick of any items in its hoard if you can defeat it."

"I'm sure those thieves are dead now," Tristan says, and the Lord nods in accord. "How are we to find this place?"

There is a pause while the Lord stops his pacing and turns to face the two, lowering his head, momentarily reluctant to speak. "An oracle woman lives on the edge of town," he says at last, "and she can tell you where the dragon lives."

"It is still midday. Let's visit her right now." Mana is the first to stand and Tristan follows suit, turning to the Lord and thanking him for his hospitality.

"Head towards the mountains," the Lord tells them. "There is no path, but when you see the hedges follow them until you reach the gate. If the woman wishes to see you, they will be unlocked."

"We will," Tristan says. "And she will see us. First thing tomorrow, we hunt a dragon."

.

.

Mana takes the lead, a few steps in front of Tristan, skipping more than walking as they head through the grass. After the weeks of extended travel, their horses need the rest, and while Tristan had brought his weapons he hardly expects the dragon to swoop down from the sky while they walk across an empty field.

Before them the mountains rise into the sky, but even here the hillside is inclined and scattered with rocks. As Mana walks she kicks a few of the small ones with the sides of her feet for amusement before slowing down so she can walk beside Tristan when she notices his mood.

"What is it?" she asks. "I know you too well. You're worried about something."

"I am." Tristan's strides are long and even, but Mana finds it easy to match them. "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" Her laugh is light, an attempt to diffuse his gloom. "Tristan, if you're so worried about me then let us ask the oracle about the success of our mission."

"Battle is always dangerous," he says. "I cannot assure you anything. According to the castle's Lord, five others have tried and failed. Granted, they were minor knights, interested more for the money, but there is no denying the danger that awaits us. I would feel better if you would stay behind tomorrow."

Mana does not stop, but she reaches out a hand to settle lightly against Tristan's arm. "Do not worry. I'll be fine. Nothing will stop me from having my adventure and seeing this through to the end."

"…And then we'll go home," he says quietly, and Mana's smile widens as she drops her hand to reach for his, squeezing it lightly.

"Yes," she agrees. "And then we'll go home."

As they walk it becomes obvious that while the land is becoming wilder, the fields to their direct left are cultivated and smooth. Tall, neat hedges rise from the ground to form right angles and stretch for what seem like miles in either direction. Mana attempts to look over the top of one, but finds it is too tall, even standing on tiptoe.

"What do you suppose is inside?" she asks.

"I don't know." As they walk closer to the gate, Honda switches to stand on Mana's other side, putting himself between her and the hedges. "The oracle, perhaps."

The gate is tall and wide, made of iron and bronze in impressive scrollwork, the doors already half-open and creaking on their hinges when Tristan pulls one towards him to open it further.

"She is expecting us," Mana says. "Should we be worried?"

Inside, a woman stands with her back to them, white hair cascading around her shoulders to fall nearly at her waist. The interior of the garden is as impeccably cared for as the outside, and as the woman reaches towards a carefully pruned pear tree and pulls a fruit from its branches, Mana cannot help thinking that the most beautiful thing inside the garden is the woman itself.

"You have nothing to fear from me here," she says, turning, each motion elegant, the effect of the perfection more scripted than natural. "What can I do for you?"

"We are here to save the town from the dragon." It is Tristan who speaks, his sense of curiosity directed more towards the woman than the garden itself. "We need your assistance. Please tell us where we can find it."

She takes a bite from the pear. "Walk with me."

Nodding, the two step forward, but the woman shakes her head, raising a hand as an indication to stop. They comply, and she laughs, the sound muted. "Just her. I will share my secrets with her."

Mana glances up at Tristan, who nods. As she walks beside the woman she takes Mana's arm, looping it through her own.

"You are welcome to stay here," the woman tells him, "but do not wander, and do not eat any of the fruit that grows here." She takes the lead, her grip strong on Mana's arm, pulling her past the trees and into a wide lane bordered by hedges.

"You may call me Kisara," she continues, and Mana echoes the name, copying her strange pronunciation.

"What is this place?" she asks.

"A garden of great magic," Kisara answers, setting their pace. "A place of immeasurable power. Do you know that one bite of the fruit that grows here will render one immortal?"

Mana pauses, nearly stumbling over her own feet as Kisara continues to walk. "What? You mean—"

"Yes, even if one were minutes from death this garden would keep them alive. But only within the garden—if they were to leave the bounds of this place, their injuries would resume and death would consume them. I can prove it to you, if you like."

She stops, one hand reaching for the edge of her sleeve, pushing it up her arm and twisting her body. Behind her shoulder, and presumably drifting down the length of her side, the skin is loose and brittle, filled with scars and slashes, residue from an injury long in the past.

"You see," she says, dropping the bliaut sleeve back to her elbow and picking up Mana's arm again, "the same is true for me. I live here throughout the ages, full from the fruit that grows here, knowing that if I were to ever leave I could not spend long outside the gates of this garden."

"But the chance to live forever…" Mana trails off, dropping her head, surprised when Kisara lifts the fingers of her free hand to push the hair covering her face behind one ear.

"It is hardly worth it alone," she says. "I have had many companions over the years. Living in a paradise like this, it does not seem so bad, does it?"

"Wherever Tristan is, I am home." Mana lifts her chin, setting it firmly. "It is as simple as that."

"Seeking this dragon will not be easy," Kisara says, guiding them down another lane, this one facing the tall mountain, wreathed in fog. "There is a path that begins at the mountain's base. You must follow it, and when it forks always keep to the left. Eventually, about half-way up you will come to a cave, and there you will find the dragon."

"And if we don't?"

"Then the dragon will find you." She turns again, pulling Mana with her down a smaller lane, this one bordered with trees of different kinds and heights instead of hedges. Suddenly, Mana wishes to take her shoes off and feel what the grass would be like directly underfoot. She edges closer to Kisara, away from the trees and the fruit at eye-level, fearing what even their scent might do to her mind.

"If you would like to try one, I would not stop you." Discarding the stem and core of the pear she reaches for a different fruit, pulling it from the tree with little resistance. "There are flowers on the north side of the garden, beautiful flowers, some that are said to produce a hypnotic scent and others that grow in every color conceivable. I'm sure you would like to see them."

"I'm sorry," Mana says. "I would like to return to Tristan now. We need to prepare for tomorrow, for the dragon. I have no time to spend with you." Her smile is apologetic, but as she tries to lift her arm from Kisara's grasp it is not relinquished easily. "I'm sorry."

"You are not." The words are spoken simply, the tone straightforward as Kisara looks at Mana through blue eyes as bright as the sky. "But I do not begrudge you for that. I will show you back to the entrance."

Tristan is waiting as patiently as he can, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back to make sure he does not succumb to the temptation of actually looking around the garden. He is hungry, and the fruit looks so perfect that the thought of stealing an apple crossed his mind once or twice, but the temptation is always repelled by the reminder that doing so would be a disgrace to his knightly principles. He has only to wait for Mana, and then they can return to the castle.

The two women appear through a different gap in the hedges, and his worry increases again when he notices the strange look Mana wears in place of her usual, effortless smile. She crosses towards him, taking his hand in hers. "Come on," she says. "Let's go."

They cross the threshold of the gate, and only once does Mana look back, catching one last glimpse of Kisara through the bars of the gate, a plum poised before her lips.

.

.

They both wear their full armor, swords and knives strapped to their sides, with as much food in their stomachs as they can stand and as much information in their heads as they can gather. Everything she learned Mana shared with Tristan, and as they head for the mountain with a small retinue of soldiers from the castle Mana cannot help but worry.

She knows they've already had the discussion, and she knows not to fear, but there is nothing she can do to convince herself otherwise. Tristan is busy speaking to the Lord, inquiring about the methods of the other soldiers and attempting to develop a strategy where they can surprise the dragon.

"They are cunning, and smart," he says. "So they will see an attack coming long before it reaches them. That's why we must have the element of surprise."

At the base of the mountain, their group pauses while Tristan and Mana dismount, intending to travel the rest of the way on foot.

"I do not mean to talk you out of this," says the Lord, "but so many others have failed. I am starting to believe that no one can destroy this beast."

"I've always tempted fate," Tristan says, leaning to adjust the buckles fastening his cloak against one shoulder. "It's why my campaigns are so successful."

The Lord frowns, shuffling closer so he can whisper his response to the young knight, not wanting any of the others to overhear it. "When the dragon uncoils from its slumber—exposing sinewy muscles, sharp claws, and those flat, irreconcilable eyes, there's said to be no sight more dangerous on this Earth. And still you want to go after it?"

Tristan smiles thinly and nods, glancing up at the wide mountain before them. At the mountain's base, it was just possible to see the top obscured through the mist, even though it was already midmorning. "Does the sun ever shine here?"

"Not hardly," the man tells him. "For there is nothing for it to shine on."

"Then today," Tristan says, "it will shine on our success."

Without another word, he begins the trek up the mountain, with Mana no more than a step behind him.

.

.

"Did you hear that?" Mana strains to listen through the trees, finding their noise just as distracting as anything they could be actually listening for. "I could have sworn I…"

Tristan creeps around her, his feet light on the ground. "Hushed voices," he whispers. "We are coming in from above the cave instead of below it. If we fight the dragon inside the cave, it will have to guard its hoard and fight us at once, which will divide its attention. If we let it get to the sky, the best thing to do is run, because it will have the advantage."

Every muscle in her body is stiff from the heavy armor and the strain of walking, but at the seriousness in his voice she finds all the tension melting away, replaced by a thundering adrenaline. If she had never thought she was capable of something like this, she would prove herself wrong now.

"Yes," she says. "I am with you."

"And I am with you. Till the end, if necessary." Tristan's arm finds her waist, gripping it and pulling her closer before he kisses her with as much passionate restraint as he can manage. The expression on his face when he lets her go is almost painful, and she finds she misses the contact and winds one hand around one of his to compensate.

"We go. Now." He takes off through the trees and she follows every one of his footsteps, trying to mimic the lightness of his steps. Somewhere along the way the link of their fingers is broken, and she sets her hands firmly at each side, close enough to the hilt of her sword in the event that she needs to use it.

Below them through the trees they can see a wide, gaping hole in the mountain, a cave prefaced by a treeless breadth of land. Inside it is misty and dark, but it takes only one glance to know that the dragon is not there.

"What now?" she mouths the words instead of speaking them, and Tristan gestures towards the cave.

"We go inside," he says. "We wait for it to return."

She follows him as he slides down the ground to the cave's mouth, slipping inside and disappearing into the darkness. Inside the cave, the ground is cool and damp under her feet, and she notices that Tristan, ever cautious, has one hand on the hilt of his sword, too. She feels slightly better about her skills, and as her vision adjusts she can see just how cavernous and vast the cave is.

"Where is it?" she asks. "The hoard?"

"Look for it. I'll check over there." He lifts an elbow to gesture towards the right side of the cave, and she nods and heads left, following the wall. About half-way down she notices a strange jut in the wall, and when she walks around it she stands immobile, unable to stifle the gasp that leaves her mouth.

Against the wall are stacked skeletons, each one nothing but bone, settled in heaps. All are adult, she notices from the height, but otherwise it is impossible in the darkness to tell anything further about their purpose or placement. She kneels, glancing at one, touching its hand lightly.

The more she looks, the more strange it all seems to her. Tristan is there in an instant. "I heard you—what is it…" He stops, too, the sight of the skeletons taking away whatever else might have been on his mind.

"Look at this one," she says. The skeleton she points to has an arm bent out at an odd angle, and the bones of its foot are crushed. "And this one." The second one has scored lines along its ribs, and she counts the marks. There are three, and a fourth, deeper line along the back. "It must have been caused by the dragon." There could be no other alternative.

"There is nothing else here." Honda sounds troubled, and as she stands to face him she finds she cannot turn her back on the nameless, faceless people behind her. "No treasure. No gold. So what was the dragon protecting? What would anyone come here to steal?"

"I don't know." Mana hears a screech, undeniable this time, and darts to the side, pushing Honda out of the way. "The dragon!"

Something blasts into the cavern—not fire, no, fire is not blue—but the sheer heat is enough to set the adrenaline already in her system into something pounding that stretches her very skin under the surface, and Mana wants to run and jump and _fight _with every fiber of her being.

Tristan spins, a knife in his hand, and the next second they can hear the sound of claws scrabbling over rock. The next second the mouth of the cave is blocked by something impossibly large, and as the dragon soars inside the cave Mana can see clearly, for the first time in her life, what a dragon looks like.

It's white and sleek and every single feature of it screams _danger_. Its head is close enough for her to see her own reflection in one of its blue eyes, and for all her momentum she finds herself suddenly unable to move.

The dragon shrieks and Mana drops to the ground, rolling out of the way as the dragon thrashes, Tristan's knife embedded to the hilt in one of its feet. "Come on!" he shouts, pulling Mana to her feet and running with her along the length of the dragon's body, its thrashing tail whipping against the rocks at the cave's mouth, dislodging a few to smash into the ground near their feet.

As they run she glances up at the dragon's body, at the strange perforations in the dragon's skin near its wing, stretched wide yet unbleeding, and the most curious sensation fills her and she feels more lightheaded than she has ever felt in her life.

The dragon roars again, and a few of the dislodged rocks fall to break on the dragon's back and tail. At the mouth of the cave the two stand, and Mana thinks about throwing a rock at a much smaller enemy, many years ago.

Tristan pulls his sword from its scabbard and raises it towards the sky, bisecting the sun. Mana watches, struggling to move out of the way, as the dragon's tail sweeps along the floor of the cave straight at her, pinning her against the wall and crushing her armor against her side.

"Mana!" Tristan's sword is useless against the tough scales, but as the tail sweeps back Mana drops to the ground, rolling out of the way as the dragon spins, its roar shaking the very ground they stand on. She feels her stomach gingerly, knowing while there isn't an injury, bruises are already forming on the skin.

Her actions are not her own. She sees her hand reach for her own sword as Tristan fights back, but the dragon's claws are headed towards her too quickly to avoid. She can do nothing as the claws rip through the armor, reaching the skin and slashing her side.

She doesn't scream. The pain is superficial, her mind muddled by too many things to even register as she falls to the ground, the dragon's attention focused on Tristan, who lunges towards the dragon with a strangled yell.

Mana glances down at her stomach, pulling her hand away to reveal the dented, ripped armor stained with red. She looks up, shocked, to see Tristan running towards her.

"Go!" he shouts, pulling her to her feet. "Get out of here! I'll hold the dragon off. Mana, I never thought—"

The dragon roars as it charges, and Mana scrambles forward as Tristan pushes against her back, propelling her out on shaky legs as she climbs past the mouth of the cave.

She glances back once, just to see the dragon swipe an arm towards Tristan, sending him flying against the wall of the cave. She closes her eyes shut tight, stumbling into the murky sunlight. She hears more roars before there is nothing but silence, not even the ruffling of leaves on the breeze as she climbs down the mountain, finding it much faster than the walk up. Her unsteady feet are particularly adept at sending her away from danger, but thoughts of Tristan consume her. She doesn't know what happened to him. She doesn't know what's going to happen to _her_.

"Mana!" A familiar shape comes barreling out of the trees ahead of her, and Mana stumbles forward in relief, happy to let Kisara catch and support her, helping her along the path. Her own white shift is stained with blood, but Mana doesn't have the breath to apologize for ruining it as she leans against her.

"Don't worry, Mana," Kisara says. "I'll save you. Come with me. Let me save you."

Mana resists at first. If Tristan is dead, she thinks she would rather follow him than remain alone, although as Kisara drags her past the open gates of the garden she realizes that the decision is no longer hers.

She falls against the ground, her cheek brushing against the grass so impossibly green it cannot be real. A pear is pressed into one palm, and that same hand is raised towards her mouth.

"Eat," Kisara instructs. "Eat, and live. Live for me."

She cannot protest as her teeth sink into the fruit. She tastes it, unbearably sweet, on her tongue. She swallows, feeling the blood stay within her instead of fleeing her body through the wound in her stomach. Kisara kneels beside her, and Mana notices a strange, similar scar on her bare feet. She tries to speak, but cannot with the pear's second bite in her mouth.

"You have to stay," Kisara says. "And now you must. That is the power of the garden."

Mana tries to sit up, and Kisara is not there to help her.

She looks before her to where Kisara stands by the very front of the garden. She swings the heavy, golden gates closed, and clicks the lock into place.

**End.**

* * *

><p>Notes:<p>

1) This story is, in particular, an homage to the writings of Chrétien de Troyes, of whom I am a scholar. Firstly, Chrétien is known for establishing what we know as an "Arthurian Romance," originating the grail legend and the Lancelot love triangle, in particular. There's plenty of references scattered throughout to his writings and Arthurian legend in general (_Nantes _is where Erec and Enide ruled; _Castle Dore _is known for being the residence of King Mark and the "Tristan" of Arthurian renown; Twrch Trwyth is the name of a mythical boar that King Arthur fights). Adding to that, it's not _completely _unheard of for a woman to accompany a knight on a quest (Enide _does_ accompany Erec on a quest, although the circumstances are good deal different to this). A dragon features prominently in _Beowulf_, and that was my inspiration for creating Kisara's medieval!dragon!persona—dragons were notoriously protective of their hoards, but here instead of gold I portrayed the dragon as collecting companions. I am totally aware that my timeline is all over the place, but I went for a collective approach in referencing different parts of medieval history (Joan of Arc, 15th century; bliaut, a type of sleeve from the 13th century; Chrétien himself is from the 12th century, etc).

2) In order to become a knight, boys were typically sent away at young ages to other castles to become pages. Eventually they would become squires to actual knights (they'd be responsible for maintaining/carrying the armor, caring to the horses, etc) and they would gain combat experience through that before they actually became knights themselves. Chivalry and courtly love were especially important to knights, and I tried to make Tristan here mindful of those values.

2) Thank you for reading. I would appreciate and value your reviews!

~Jess


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